


swore to no compromise

by cherryvanilla



Category: Actor RPF, Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Pirate, Crossdressing, F/M, First Time, Friends to Lovers, Genderfuck, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-23
Updated: 2014-08-23
Packaged: 2018-02-14 10:37:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2188605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cherryvanilla/pseuds/cherryvanilla
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>His eyes are fond when he looks back up at her and Kristen’s breath catches in her throat. She’s the only one who sees this side of him and in the past few months it has been occurring more and more. With the rest of the crew he has his fair share of fun amidst barking commands, but he doesn’t look at any of them the way he looks at her, with a softness there. Their eyes lock and hold and Kristen wants nothing more than to slide down the rope and put her mouth on his. </p><p>“Come, I want my right hand man beside me at dinner,” he says, breaking the moment, and that is when reality comes crashing back. </p><p>Because Kristen cannot exactly be sliding down ropes and kissing her captain. Not when he isn’t even aware she is a woman.</p>
            </blockquote>





	swore to no compromise

**Author's Note:**

> I was asking deepsix for unspecific au prompts and then i randomly mentioned me having a dream about natalie dormer on a pirate ship and her response was 'write kstew the crossdressing crewmen and tazer the pirate captain'. I still don't know how she got from point A to point B but I'm happy she did. 
> 
> I did some research on this but basically it's set in a nebulous time period. However in my research I did discover most ships did not have first mates and the quartermaster performed those duties, the second most important role on the ship. Just so you're aware why that role is missing. 
> 
> Thanks to sesame_seed for beta. 
> 
> Title by The Decemberists. 
> 
> Graphic: 
> 
>  

______________________________

“What’s our location, Stewart?” 

“100 nautical miles off the coast, Captain. Or so says Kane.”

“And you’re sure this is a lucrative trading port?” 

Kristen looks down from where she’s perched on the edge of the main deck, takes in his concerned expression and grins. “Would I ever steer you astray, Sir?” 

He shakes his head but she can plainly see the smile pulling at his lips. “You’d be a crap second-in-command if you did as much.”

His eyes are fond when he looks back up at her and Kristen’s breath catches in her throat. She’s the only one who sees this side of him and in the past few months it has been occurring more and more. With the rest of the crew he has his fair share of fun amidst barking commands, but he doesn’t look at any of them the way he looks at her, with a softness there. Their eyes lock and hold and Kristen wants nothing more than to slide down the rope and put her mouth on his. 

“Come, I want my right hand man beside me at dinner,” he says, breaking the moment, and that is when reality comes crashing back. 

Because Kristen cannot exactly be sliding down ropes and kissing her captain. Not when he isn’t even aware she is a woman.  
_____________________________

_seven months earlier_

Kristen’s father was a seafaring man, former captain of a navy ship. Her eldest brother took his spot as successor when his leg became too bad to travel. They lived in a small town, her mom a seamstress. Kristen used to help her, carrying bundles down towards the shipyards, delivering finished products to the men there. She dreamed of going on those boats, hated that her father sheltered her from it. She used to spend long hours staring out at the sea, her long hair blowing in the breeze, watching under the setting sun as the ships made their way to shore. 

When he passed from the fever, Kristen mourned along with her family but as the months dragged on she refused to stay idle any longer. She’d earn money to support her family, her brothers both now on war ships, the youngest unable to hold his own yet.

It’s a cool autumn morning when she decides to leave. Her father wouldn’t have approved of her getting mixed up with bandits but Kristen doesn’t care and she isn’t scared. She steals some of his old clothes, hems them herself and takes off for the docks, hoping she’ll find something ashore. She has to wait two days, but finally a ship comes for a reprieve. It’s a frigate, three masts with square sails, decent sized and sturdy looking. Kristen can make out the raised forecastle and quarterdeck, the two dozen or so mounted guns on the two and a half gun decks. She knows instantly the ship is fast and she figures it as good as any to have come her way. 

Kristen watches as the anchor is thrown overboard. Their town is too poor for any type of pillaging so she’s not worried in that regard. After it’s rigged, Kristen witnesses a body, wrapped in a sheet, being lifted off the deck and sent over the edge, near the docks. 

“Damn shame,” she hears someone who might be the captain say, as he makes his way down the dock. “He was a good man.” 

“We’ll find another, Sir,” a young man, probably around her age, replies as they begin to walk past her. 

Kristen chopped her hair short prior to leaving but she is decided to wear a cap, pulled down low along her brow, in fear of being found out. There are a few female pirates, she knows this, but most are under the protection of the captain; the majority of ships employ all men and prefer it as such. The Navy was the same, of course, and Kristen has no doubt if she’d been born a boy her father never would’ve objected to her desire to follow in his footsteps. 

“I can be your crewman,” Kristen says, standing as they pass. 

They turn in unison.

“And who are you?” the one she’s deemed captain says, while the man close to her age just looks her up and down.

“Jaymes,” she says, blurting out her other name without thought, even though she technically could have shortened her first to ‘Kris’. “Jaymes Stewart, at your service.” She bows a little, which earns a snort from Not-Captain. 

“This one lays it on a bit thick, eh, Captain?” 

“Quiet, Jonathan,” the captain says and Kristen nearly smirks as Jonathan, apparently, goes a little red in the face. 

“I’m Captain LaPointe. What skills have you?” 

“Handy with the sword, weapons, can read maps and portolan charts. Can sew, if necessary.” 

She hears another snicker from Jonathan and glares at him. 

“Hmm. Jonathan, take Stewart here and go find some biscuits and cheese. We’re sailing again within the hour. He’s in your charge now.”

“But Sir--”

“No buts. We need another crew member, you know this. Show him the ropes, let it be known exactly what we do.” 

“Yes, Sir,” Jonathan replies reluctantly. 

“Welcome aboard, son,” Lapointe says to Kristen. She smiles and shakes his hand, before looking at Jonathan again. 

He’s clean-shaven and tall, his boots shiny and his hair cropped short. Kristen can tell he is going to be trouble, in more ways than one.  
__________________

“Do you know what it is we do here?” Jonathan asks tightly as they sit on the deck, Kristen stuffing her face with bread. 

“Yes,” she replies around her mouthful. “I am not so simple, you know.” 

Jonathan scowls at her but says nothing, instead passing her the block of cheese for her to take her fill. 

“We pirates are not wayward bandits. We obey the Articles of our people. Are you aware of these?”

“Some,” Kristen admits reluctantly, “not all.” 

Jonathan nods shortly and proceeds to rattle them off from memory, voice flat. Kristen tenses slightly at Article 3, knowing she won’t soon be forgetting its contents. 

Nevertheless, she manages to laugh at him as he finishes. 

“What?” he bristles. 

“You take this rather seriously, I gather.” 

Jonathan’s face evens out. “Well. Yes. It is.” 

He looks at her with such an earnest expression. It’s then Kristen realizes she’s made the right choice.  
________________

Kristen spends her second day aboard ship sewing up holes in various bits of clothing and darning socks. This earns a lot of sniggering from the crew, even though it’s their shoddy clothes she’s mending. 

On her third day, Kristen stalks up to Jonathan. “Give me a different task.” 

He raises his eyebrows at her, glancing at the men around him and back again. “Is the one you have now so unsatisfactory?” 

“Yes,” Kristen grits out, holding her chin up defiantly. 

Jonathan crosses his arms over his chest. “It was a skill you listed.” 

“One of _many_ ,” Kristen reminds. 

“And which would you prefer, then?” 

She looks at the men sitting around, whispering to themselves and laughing in her direction. A few of them have called her ‘soft hands’ already. 

“Let us practice my sword fighting and I shall prove my hands are anything but soft.” 

Jonathan’s eyes widen a little and she’s not sure it because of her suggestion or because he was unaware of the things his fellow crewmen have been saying. 

“As you wish,” Jonathan replies, and gets up to retrieve two swords while hooting and hollering begins around them. 

“Let us see how good you are, Stewart,” Jonathan says with a smirk. 

Kristen takes the sword, grinning back sharply. 

They start out evenly matched, Kristen meeting Jonathan’s every parry. She laughs when he spins around, getting fancy. Kristen copies the evasion, knocking his sword downward before flipping it out of his grip and pushing forward, sending them both down unto the deck of the ship, stabbing the metal of her sword into the plank by Jonathan’s head. 

He looks up at her, eyes large and mouth dropped open. She’s straddling his waist and she can see his chest rising and falling. 

“I win,” Kristen grins, voice a little breathless. 

Laughter rings out around them, the men clamoring about her not being so soft now. Jonathan’s still staring though and Kristen feels the skin on the back of her neck prick up, struck by a sensation she hasn’t felt in a good while. 

“That you do,” Jonathan replies, gruffly. She can see a smile playing on his lips, however, and she moves to get off him. 

He heaves himself up and holds out his hand to shake hers. A spark runs up her arm and she pulls away too fast. Jonathan smile turns sheepish and he glances around. “How about our new crewmember, eh, boys?” 

Another round of cheers goes up and Kristen has to fight back a blush when Jonathan claps her on the back. 

Later that night Jonathan wanders over with two bottles of rum. 

“For a job well done,” he says, handing her one and settling down beside her on the deck. As if there was ever an excuse needed to drink while on the ship, she thinks wryly. 

“Thanks,” Kristen replies, taking a long swig and ignoring the way it stings her throat. 

“Running away, then?” 

Kristen jumps at the words. It’s the first personal thing he’s inquired since they met. 

Kristen sighs. “Am I so obvious?” 

Jonathan shrugs. “When one’s at sea long enough the signs are easily readable. Bad home life?” 

Kristen shakes her head. “Just needed a change.”

Jonathan laughs. “This will give you what you want, then.”

“I hope so,” Kristen replies seriously. 

Jonathan doesn’t push and Kristen’s grateful for it. Instead he begins telling her about his time on The Blackhawk, how long he’s been there, what it’s like being a quartermaster. 

Before Kristen realizes, it’s curfew.

“It was nice talking to you, Stewart,” Jonathan says, a little awkwardly when they break for their respective cabins. 

Kristen isn’t sure why that makes her feel so happy. 

“You as well.”  
_____________________________________

The most challenging part of Kristen’s life on a ship full of men is, shockingly, not nearly getting caught, but holding her liquor. Kristen likes to drink but she was never accustomed to doing so the way these men do. They drink all the time, dance, sing. Life is a grand party and Kristen is at its center as the freshest meat on board.

The crew has been nice to her after those initial few days, but they also want to get her drunk and often, saying it’s the rite of passage of any new member. And Kristen is definitely abiding by it. Jonathan will often watch her, off to the side, a mug full of rum in his hand, raising it up.

One night after a particularly lengthy bout of drinks and merriment, she wanders over to the gunwalls, sitting alongside it with a thunk, feeling way too dizzy. Her hair is sweaty against her forehead and she feels too tight in her clothes, wishing she could ease the binding around her chest. 

Jonathan sits himself down next to her and Kristen blinks blearily up at him. 

“You are horrible at holding your liquor, Stewart.” 

Kristen pushes at him with her elbow. “Haven’t heaved over the deck this time,” she points out, recalling an evening during her first week.

Jonathan laughs. It’s a really good sound, one she seems always to long for.

“You speak the truth. Perhaps we should commemorate the event.” 

Kristen rolls her eyes and pushes at him again until he pushes back, grinning down at her. They sit there, companionably, for an undeterminable amount of time, just looking out at the rest of the deck. Kristen’s only been on board a couple of months but in that time she’s come to really care about this boat and its members. Maybe one member in particular. 

Jonathan was quick-witted and smart; he knew what it took to be a great quartermaster. Honestly, Kristen found him to be more of a captain than LaPointe. He took his tasks seriously but this did not mean he ceased to drink as much as everyone else or did not engage in singing and dancing, however badly. 

Despite Jonathan’s initial tensions with regard to his assignment to Kristen -- to take her under his command, so to speak -- they have gotten on well since that night of shared rum and companionship, often finding one another on nights at sea before curfew, whether to talk or simply look up at the stars. Jonathan spoke well and often, much to her surprise -- would tell stories of their adventures on The Blackhawk. He did not relay a story as Kristen did -- speaking quickly and with her hands -- but he was somehow just as engaging, his enthusiasm coming out in odd, awkward ways. He also enjoyed pointing out the constellations to her, stating he learnt of them from his mother. 

“Up now,” Jonathan says, moving to stand. Kristen hadn’t realized her head was listing on his shoulder until his shifting nearly caused her to topple sideways. Her cheeks burn as she looks up at him, unable to read his expression. 

He hesitates for a moment before reaching out his hand. Kristen looks at it blankly before taking it, letting him haul her up roughly. She breaks the contact immediately when she’s reached her feet. 

“I can handle myself, Toews,” she says gruffly and feels she must imagine the way color rises to his own cheeks. 

“You are still my responsibility,” he replies, just as gruff. “I don’t care to explain to our captain why you were passed out on the deck.” 

“Wasn’t going to pass out,” Kristen grumbles but lets him guide the way. Kristen is surprised when he turns toward the forecastle of the ship, instead of the quarter galleries. As quartermaster Jonathan has his own living space, whereas Kristen shares with Saad. 

As if sensing her thoughts, Jonathan says, “Quieter. Saad is probably playing cards and loudly with Leddy.” 

This is true. And Kristen is too drunk to make sure she doesn’t accidently undress completely, has had to catch herself quite a few times now. 

They enter Jonathan’s berth and Kristen immediately throws herself on his cot while Jonathan sighs as if she’s greatly inconvenienced him. 

“Move over,” he says quietly and she does, opening one eye as he sits on the edge, unlacing his boots. 

“You should take yours off,” he says, looking at her before stretching out. 

“Tired,” she says, not moving, full aware of the way he’s pressed against her side. Kristen feels bumps rise on her arms, shivering at the press of his body. They have never done this before. Sure, Jonathan has guided her back to her room at night after one too many pints of rum, easing her back onto her cot while Saad and Leddy barely looked up from their game. But he never stayed, obviously, and they never gathered in his quarters except when he was still showing her the ropes, those initial weeks. 

Kristen wonders what Jonathan would do if he knew. If he’d shout and rush to tell LaPointe, have her keel hauled or just thrown overboard. If he’d do neither of those things, perhaps instead roll over her body and press their mouths together in a heated kiss, gasping how long it has been without the touch of a woman. 

Kristen could hardly imagine either scenario, mostly could only see the disappointment heavy in Jonathan’s gaze at being lied to and made the fool. It makes her heart feel heavy and she sighs.

“Go to sleep, Jaymes,” Jonathan says, not unkindly. In fact, he sounds happy. 

“Sweet dreams, Jonathan,” Kristen replies. 

“Johnny,” he responds through a yawn. 

“What?” 

“You can call me Johnny,” he says sleepily. When Kristen looks over at him again his eyes are closed and his breathing is even. 

She smiles into the darkness.  
__________________________

“Johnny!” Kristen yells through the fury of battle. Their ship had been attacked in the middle of the night and she's attempting to hold off two men with her sword. Their captain lies motionless by her side, Kristen having gotten there just as she saw the sword enter him. Johnny is at the other end of the ship, manning the cannon and preparing to blow-up the intruders’ vessel. 

There’s a man coming at his back though, and Kristen cannot get to him, is still trying to dispose of the men who’d most likely killed her captain. The sword clanks against her own and she spins around, kicking her feet towards the man on her left before getting her sword into the man on her right. She pulls it out and turns to the other man, who just blinks at his friend’s now lifeless body as it falls. 

Kristen glances at Johnny, sees Sharp coming to his aid, knifing the man in the back. She breathes out slowly and cuts down the man in front of her before dropping down beside to her captain. 

When the cannons have gone off and the deck is clear, Johnny joins her at his side, hand on her shoulder as she lets silent tears fall. The rest of the crew gathers, removing their thrums and bowing their heads. 

“He was a good man,” Johnny says, voice waving ever so slightly. “He would want us to continue sailing The Blackhawk in his name.”

“It should be yours to man,” Sharp says.

Kristen looks up, eyes still fresh with tears and watches as everyone nods. 

Johnny’s mouth opens and closes, silently. “I… It would be an honor,” he says finally and Kristen wants nothing more than to surge upward for an embrace, to feel his strong arms wrap around her. 

“Only if Stewart is my second,” Johnny continues, and Kristen rises to her feet on unsteady legs. 

“No, I’m too new, that is-- “ Not right, she wants to say, glancing around to Sharp, Hossa, Seabrook, Keith, people who have been here far longer than she. 

“It is my wish,” Johnny says, looking at the crew -- _his_ crew. Kristen can’t see any derision in their faces, only acceptance. 

“Captain’s wishes,” Sharp says, leaning over to ruffle her hair. Kristen rolls her eyes, her throat dry. 

“Ay, ay, Captain,” Kristen says sarcastically, looking at Johnny with a small smile. 

He smiles back and it’s as if her heart wants to pound out of her chest.  
________________________

Johnny loses his private quarters as captain, one of the only good things about being quartermaster over the role. Sharp had shared living space with LaPointe and Johnny takes up residence there, at the quarterdeck. They manage to spend a lot of time in his old quarters, though, which now belong to Kristen. 

They drink, plan courses of action, play cards, talk. Johnny tells her about his family back in British North America and Kristen finally divulges to him what she can of her home life, leaving out a lot of details. Johnny has a younger brother who was ill and whatever bounty he had he would send along to his family. Many people who entered this life weren’t the good sort, but Johnny was, through and through, and Kristen had never met anyone like him. 

“How old are you, Jaymes?” Johnny asks one night when they are lying side by side in her quarters. 

She startles at the question and how it seemingly came out of nowhere. “Why?” she asks, tilting her head towards him. 

He pulls his lip between his teeth and Kristen sees the hint of tongue he bares. It makes her mouth water. 

Johnny lifts one shoulder. “You carry yourself as a man, but I’ve never seen an ounce of hair on your face.” 

Kristen tenses immediately, Johnny coming closer to the truth than he ever has in the six months Kristen has been aboard. 

“You are one to talk of beards, _Captain_ ,” she teases, reaching out a hand to scratch at his sparse one. 

Now it’s Johnny’s turn to tense, can feel it beneath her fingertips. She clears her throat and pulls away, embarrassed. Perhaps she was out of place with the deliberate mocking use of his title. She had offered to call him it always, but Johnny had declined, insisting she could still use his nickname. Nevertheless, she does call him captain amongst the crew, or at least she tries to. She imagines she fails when there’s too much rum.

“Sorry,” Kristen says, though unsure for what.

“There is nothing to be sorry for,” he says softly. 

Their eyes meet and Kristen swallows around the lump in her throat. 

“Twenty and one,” she says. “Not much younger than yourself. My skin is fair, I never had much facial hair. When the whiskers begin to show I use my straight blade.” 

Johnny nods, their eyes still holding. “I did not think of you as a boy.” 

Kristen’s mouth drops open and her heart races until he continues. “I imagined we were near in age. I am… glad.” 

Kristen frowns at that, wondering what difference it would have made. 

“As am I,” is the only thing she can think to say. It must be the proper response because Johnny just smiles again and turns away, closing his eyes for sleep. 

It takes Kristen a good while to drift off, thoughts of Johnny’s eyes on her own, the way his skin felt beneath her hand, playing again and again in her mind.  
_________________________________

When they go to ports it is normally to plunder other docked ships or waterside shops. It is rarely for pleasure or fun but Johnny is apparently in good spirits this evening to allow for some frolicking within the town, as long as it does not get out of hand. They gather in a tavern and it’s Kristen’s first instance of seeing Johnny with women. Well -- other women. 

There is a barmaid, fair hair and eyes, breasts hanging out of her laced up dress, that has been sitting on his lap for what feels like an eternity. Kristen scowls into her mug from her seat at the bar, looking away from the spectacle. Johnny can do what he wishes and if it means a dalliance with this stranger, Kristen cannot pass judgment. 

She is glad to be masquerading as a man, would hate to have one of them in this bar try to start up a conversation with her. Her eyes seek out Johnny again, unbidden, and she is startled to find he’s looking right back, a frown gracing his lips. He’s barely paying attention to the woman against him, his hand lose at her side, as he holds Kristen’s gaze. 

She licks her own suddenly dry lips and blinks when Johnny’s eyes drop to follow the movement. 

Her eyes widen, stomach tight with confusion and surprise. Kristen is not dim-witted. She is full aware there has been something dormant between them, perhaps from the outright. However, to Johnny’s eyes she is a man and Kristen has never received any indication that he desired the company of one in bed. 

She looks away, knocking back the rest of her beer and turning to Kane who’s taken the seat next to her. 

“Alright there, Stewart?” he asks. 

“Yes,” Kristen replies. “Never better.” 

The next time she looks over, Johnny’s lap is empty and he’s got his arm around Sharp, talking quietly. She feels as though she can breathe again.  
_____________________________

 _now_

Kristen does as Johnny asks, sitting beside him at dinner below the deck. The table is loud and boisterous but she and Johnny speak quietly, discussing their plan of action to plunder silk and cotton from the village’s trading port. Kristen’s main job consists of making sure the ship is properly run, with everyone manning their stations and performing their duties, as well as dividing up the loot and issuing methods punishment if warranted. As Captain, Johnny is supposed to make all the necessary decisions such as where they were headed, which ships to attack, and so forth. Except he often asks Kristen’s advice and it constantly surprises her. Johnny very much treats her as though they share these duties; she isn’t exactly sure why. 

That night he joins her in her berth after curfew. It’s something that has been happening more and more since his appointment as captain a few months prior. 

“Mr. Sharp will talk,” Kristen teases when Johnny sneaks inside, shutting the door and pulling out a bottle of rum from within his coat. 

“Mr. Sharp is well aware that as Captain, I can break my own rules,” Johnny replies, voice full of mirth. “And what is there to say?” he continues, sitting beside Kristen and holding out the bottle. “That I enjoy your company? The entire crew is aware.” 

“Perhaps they think you enjoy it a little _too_ much, Captain,” Kristen says around the rim of the bottle, teasing, even though the words stick a little in her throat. 

She waits for his laugh, for the press of his elbow against her own in a gentle shove but neither occur. When she looks at Johnny he is coiled tight, stiff as a board, staring at his hands. 

“Perhaps I do,” he replies, voice low and soft. 

Kristen freezes and nearly drops the bottle from her suddenly slack fingers. Instead she tightens her hold, needing to feel something beyond the swirl of happiness and surprise. 

Johnny looks up at her, eyes intent. “Perhaps… perhaps I like you in ways I’ve liked no man.”

It settles in her gut, the deceit she’s playing on him, the confusion it must be laying upon him. 

“You… Jonathan, you’ve drunk too much.” 

Johnny shakes his head sadly. “I wish it were that simple. But it’s a constant feeling within me. When I look at you, watch you. You are like no man I’ve ever known.” 

Kristen bites her lip. She should tell him, no matter what his reaction. She should not let this go any further.

“I apologize,” Johnny says. “I know this isn’t right. Even if you -- I’m your captain, and I should not--” 

He begins to get up but Kristen puts her hand on his arm, his eyes cutting to her sharply, body turned toward her own. 

“It’s alright,” she whispers and pulls him down slowly. 

It’s the last thing she should’ve done, the very last, but the moment Johnny’s mouth meets her own she cannot say she regrets it. His lips are rough and there’s a scar between them that she presses her tongue against, making him gasp immediately and pressing downward so their knees knock together. 

Kristen gasps when Johnny licks between her lips, tongue sliding slowly inside her mouth, her own coming forward to meet it. He tastes like the rum they’d been drinking and a cigar he got from their last plunder. 

Kristen moans as his hands slide behind her back, up and down, almost restless. He shifts them so they’re laying on their sides, and Kristen lets out a whimper when his hips begin moving is small circles against her own. She can feel his erection fill beneath his breeches as they kiss harder, deeper. 

“Jaymes,” he gasps, breaking away to press a hot, stinging trail of kisses down her neck. 

Kristen pulls his head back up, seals their mouths together again, shifting against his erection so he’s rutting against her outer thigh and he can’t possibly feel there’s nothing in response on her end, even through the bagginess of the trousers. Her own hands trail down his back and over his ass, squeezing through the folds of fabric.

Johnny lets out a low moan, deep in his throat and god, she wants him to touch her. But he can’t. 

Kristen pulls away to breathe against his cheek as Johnny’s lips slide across her jaw. 

“I can’t…” Kristen starts, and Johnny pulls back, his hand brushing over her face. 

“What is it?” 

Her heart swells at the movement, but she tamps it down. “I haven’t done this.” 

“With a man? It’s alright, neither--”

“At all.” It’s one small truth amongst the web of lies, even if it isn’t the reason they need to stop. She had a courtship with Robert, an Englishman. They had done nothing more than some rather intense kissing and slightly beyond in their time together, before it was announced he had to return home as his mother fell ill. He did not ask Kristen to join him and she had never truly anticipated his return. 

Johnny’s eyes widen in surprise but then he’s giving her a half smile and kissing her lips softly. “We’ll take things slow.” 

Kristen lets out a huff of breath and nods shakily. “Thanks,” she says, not even feigning the embarrassment she feels. She wants him more than anything and cannot even have him. 

They lay together in a loose embrace, Johnny shifting slightly. Kristen winces when she realizes the source of his discomfort. 

“Is this why,” she begins, a few moments later when his hands are tracing patterns along her arm, “you allow me to make some of the ship’s decisions with you? This thing between us?” 

She feels him shake his head as he brushes a kiss across her temple. “No. It’s because of that night LaPointe was killed. Your quick thinking. Your willingness to take on two of his assailants while still being aware of my surroundings. He had it wrong, all those months ago. You were never in my charge. It’s I who am in yours.” 

Kristen can do nothing but blink rapidly and pull him in for another kiss, this one gentle and easy, not to start anything but to confirm it.  
__________________________________

They arrive in port, steal the booty from a docked cargo ship and are back at sea by half past seven.

By unspoken agreement Johnny joins Kristen in her cabin after she's divvied up the loot and curfew has been announced. And by unspoken agreement still, they wind up on Kristen's bed again, not touching except for their slick lips, learning the curves and shape of one another's mouths. 

"You drive me mad," Johnny whispers into the skin of Kristen's neck, nosing up her throat, his hair tickling. “From the first moment I laid eyes on you.”

Kristen gasps and bites her own lip, hands rising to clutch at Johnny's back.

She pushes their hips together and then immediately away as she once again feels his length against her. Johnny lets out an injured noise and just kisses her harder for long moments until he pulls away, stumbling out of the bed. “I must --- I'm sorry," he stutters out before fleeing. 

Kristen's cheeks burn as she realizes the reason. She wonders if he’ll try to take care of it himself or just wait until it subsides. Heat pools in her belly at the first option and she gets up to flip the latch on her cabin door before settling onto her cot and allowing herself to reach within the confines of her clothing. It's been so long since she's touched herself, since she's even felt her breasts aside from when she's tightly taping them down. She unravels the fabric now and brings both hands up to squeeze, gasping a little. She thinks about Johnny's hands on her, his mouth. She wants him to want _her_ , not ‘Jaymes’. She wants him to bring her to the peaks of pleasure and push her beyond, until she is breathless and gasping.

She slides her hand down her beneath her hose and trousers, pressing fingers against her middle, to that spot that makes her shake and shudder each time. She thinks of Johnny's fingers inside her, of him putting more than that there. She wants to know what it would feel like, be like, him moving inside her, steady and measured while he stares down at her and says things as he did tonight.

Her thighs tighten and pleasure crashes over her like a great wave threatening to force her under. Kristen gasps and moans, covering her mouth with one hand in an attempt to quell the sounds emanating from her lips. 

She hopes he’s doing the same and thinking of her, even if it’s not exactly her body he’d be imagining.  
_____________________________

Johnny doesn't feel like going into port again anytime soon.

“We have a lot of goods right now and we are not built on greed. Let us enjoy the open sea and when a ship comes our way we can plan a decent attack.”

The crew seem happy about this. The weather is nice and the sea is calm. They spend most of their days playing cards, drinking, and dancing while Kristen and Johnny begin spending a lot more time in the forecastle. If anyone notices, they don't say. 

They've basically mastered the art of kissing now. Kristen knows just how to lick and bite and tease Johnny into moaning and exhaling sharply against her. The rutting has gotten more intense too and more often than not Kristen has found herself cradled between Johnny's thick thighs, either on top of him while he drags greedy hands over her ass, or pressed into the springs of her bed, his erection thick and heavy against her until she maneuvers them to shift back onto their sides.

Tonight when Johnny breaks away from her lips roughly as she puts the distance between them, his face is flushed, his pupils large and wild looking. "I... do you not enjoy our time together?"

He's frowning and chewing on his lip, looking as concerned as Kristen’s ever seen him. 

"Of course I do," she replies, voice even deeper than usual, thick with want. She raises her hand to his freshly shaven cheek. “Why do you ask?"

Johnny shakes his head, as if to himself. "You..." He trails off and Kristen notices his blush deepening. "You do not seem...aroused...when we are together."

Kristen freezes, feels the color drain from her own cheeks.

Johnny looks horrified now. "Forgive me, I apologize for my bluntness. I simply know you must feel me and I..."

Kristen nods, unable to think. " I desire you," she blurts out.

Johnny's smile is rueful and a little sad. “I hear an exception there.”

Kristen shakes her head violently, eyes wide. "No exception. I desire you more than I ever have anyone,” she says fiercely, reveling in that small truth.

Johnny still seems unsure, self-doubt and insecurity clouding his expression. It’s not a look she cares to see from someone normally brimming with confidence. 

She leans forward and suckles on his bottom lip. “These trousers are terribly baggy. Perhaps I'm not as large as you,” she teases, before sinking her teeth into his flesh.

Johnny groans softly and he can feel his body shiver. “I won't care,” he whispers, voice serious. “It's not as though I've anything to compare it.”

Kristen once again remembers he's never done what-- he thinks they are doing. 

“Johnny, I must tell you--” she starts, suddenly unable to keep the deception afloat.

He looks at her, face full of concern and understanding. “Go on, anything.”

And she cannot again, just like that. Because seeing his open expression, his eyes that can sparkle like a child’s on Christmas morning, go hard and cold might crush her heart in two. 

"I want to feel you," she whispers, leaning into the skin of his neck and brushing her fingers over his crotch with intent.

“Oh god,” he moans, arching into her touch.

Kristen's own breathing quickens as she clumsily unfastens his flies. Her fingers slips beneath his trousers, pulling at his hose and shoving it down a little. The back of her palm skims down the hair at his bare torso, before she finds his hardness and encases it in her hand, beginning to tug. 

Johnny hisses and pushes into the touch. He’s hot and smooth like velvet in her hand; Kristen feels a surge of power rush over her, that she can make his eyes roll back in such a way, make his breathing quicken.

“Too," he gasps breathlessly,” too dry,”

Kristen pulls back and looks around. She has no oil. She licks her palm a few times and returns it. When she glances up at Johnny he's staring, stunned, eyes dark.

Kristen smirks. “How’s this?” she asks knowingly, her voice rough with want.

“Perfect,” he whispers and then they're kissing again, his hands fisted in her hair before dropping to her back and down to her ass, squeezing.

“Please let me,” Johnny whispers and Kristen tightens her grip, speeds up her strokes.

“No,” he says, stilling her hand beneath his own. “Let me pleasure you as well.”

Kristen feels her body tense with both nerves and desire.

“I'm not ready yet,” she murmurs, twisting her wrist beneath his hold up until his jaw goes slack. “For that," she adds. 

"Okay,” Johnny chokes out, “whatever you wish.”

Kristen smiles against his neck and licks the skin of his throat, tasting sweat and his own scent.

“I _wish_ to make you come apart in my hand.”

Johnny groans deeply, nudging his chin down to catch her lips again. “If you must,” he whispers, voice soft and teasing. 

Kristen's hand speeds up and Johnny's hips match it, his cries growing more broken and desperate in between feverish kisses until he tenses and spills into her hand, causing Kristen to let out a moan of her own. Hearing him this way, being the cause of it has made her own desire rise greatly and all she wants is to feel his hands, his mouth, but it's not possible. 

Johnny's gulping down breaths and peppering kisses along her face, her neck.

"Jaymes," he sighs. 

“Call me Kris,” she says, and then winces. 

Johnny pulls back a little, expression quizzical. "Hmm?"

“Jaymes is my other forename. I was running away and figured it'd be easier. Kris is my given name.”

“Oh... “ Johnny says slowly. “Kris,” he repeats, like he’s trying it out on his tongue. “Is that short for something?”

“Yes,” Kristen admits, unable to meet his eyes. "But just call me it, alright? Perhaps when-- when it's just us? I'd... like you to call me it.”

“Alright.” Johnny smiles at her, warm and sated and sleepy and if Kristen hadn’t been in love before, this is the moment she falls. 

She finds a rag near the bedside and cleans Johnny up gently before saying goodnight to him at the entrance way. She wants to ask him to stay in her bed all evening, to wake up next to him but she supposes they should keep up some semblance of priority, even if he has done so before on drunken nights. 

She’s not sure where the intensity of these feelings are coming from. Kristen never assumed she’d fall this hard for someone. Even with Robert it was not an all-consuming want. She thought maybe she was someone more in control of her emotions, not led by them, but she’s beginning to wonder if that was really the case. 

Right now she burns with an intensity so great that she wonders how it can be extinguished.  
_______________________________

After that night, it's like a dam has broken and they can barely keep their hands off one another. Kristen is glad for these lazy, relaxing days at sea. The crew keeps mainly out of trouble and does their jobs so Kristen doesn’t need to oversee much. Johnny seems to have one thing and one thing only on his mind, and Kristen cannot say she feels differently. They spend long hours in her bed, her hands working him to completion, their mouths licking and biting. It’s a wonder she doesn’t have marks all over her throat with the way Johnny loves to press his mouth to the skin of her neck and suckle.

Kristen has Johnny on his back now, his shirt risen up high as she presses her mouth to his chest. He moans beneath her, dragging his nails over her scalp. Johnny lets out a high, breathy moan as her tongue flickers at his nipples and then drags downward. She moves her fingers to his flies, parting the fabric and pushing it down, Johnny raising his hips to help. His breathing grows shallower as she pauses at his belly, pressing kisses into his skin.

“Are you -- Kris, what are you--”

“Shh,” Kristen soothes, rubbing her heel over the hose covering his erection. “Let me.” 

Johnny’s head falls back with a thunk and she hears a sharp exhale of breath. 

“You’ll be the death of me,” he whispers and she smiles into his skin, easing down the rest of his clothes, tangling it all around his thighs. She stares down at him, taking in how long and thick he is. Her mouth waters and she presses her thumb along the head before dragging it downward slowly. She’s only felt him before, never looked. She circles the base with her fingers, her other hand coming up to his scrotum, cupping it gently. 

Johnny moans softly and Kristen cannot delay longer, bends to press her mouth to the length of him before dragging her tongue up and over, sealing her lips around him and sucking. 

“Oh my god,” Johnny whispers brokenly. 

Encouraged, Kristen moves her mouth lower, taking as much as she can before starting a slow, steady rhythm up and down. Johnny gasps at every lick of her tongue, every tightening of her mouth around his length. 

“Fuck, the things I want to do to you,” says Johnny, voice rough like it’s been scraped over gravel. 

Kristen shivers, her body tingling. She pulls off with a pop, rubs her face along his length. “Tell me,” she whispers, barely recognizing her own voice, before returning to her task. 

Johnny seems to have stopped breathing until she hears a long, shuddering exhale. “Fuck. I want,” he begins, trailing off on a moan when Kristen pulls off to suckle on the head before fitting her mouth down over him again. “I want to put my hands all over your body, feel your flesh against mine. I--I want my mouth on you.”

Kristen squeezes her eyes shut and sucks harder, moving her hand to the front of her trousers and pressing hard. 

“I want to make you feel the way you do me. Kris, you’ve no idea…” 

She moans softly, licking sloppy and wet now, all around his shaft, gasping against it as fluid hits her tongue from the slit while she soothes over it. 

“Are you, oh fuck you are,” she hears Johnny say and presses her fingers firmer against herself, rubbing up and down and hoping he isn’t looking too hard. All she really needs is the friction anyway. It’ll be enough. 

“I want to fuck you,” he breathes out. “Kris, I want…” he trails off and Kristen groans as he spills against her lips. She laps at it, tasting the salt of him on her tongue, the thickness that keeps spurting, dripping down his length. Her body shakes and her skin feels like it’s on fire as she cries out, hand tensing against her body as her own pleasure builds and rushes over her. Johnny’s panting harshly above her as she still licks him lean, slowly, her hand still moving jerkily, trying to come down from the sensation. 

“That was…” Johnny says weakly and Kristen finally raises her head, blinking up at him. Her mouth feels used, her cheeks warm, her hair damp. 

“Come here,” he says, voice raw as though he’s been screaming. 

Kristen climbs up to him, settling off to his side. Johnny rolls toward her immediately, kissing her lips slow and close-mouthed, soft pecks again and again. Kristen sighs and grips the bare skin of his hip, 

“I’m glad you’re here,” Johnny says after long moments, pressing his forehead to hers. 

Kristen doesn’t say they’re in her cabin, not his. Besides, she’s pretty sure she knows what he means. 

There’s a knock at the door before she can respond and Kristen startles, staring at Johnny with wide eyes. 

“Stewart, is the captain there?” It’s Kane, the sailing master. 

He tries the door and Kristen’s more than happy she put the latch on. 

“I am,” Johnny calls out. “What is it?” 

“I’ve spotted a ship. We may be close enough to attack tomorrow.” 

“Good work, I’ll be down momentarily to advise.” 

Johnny kept his hand on Kristen’s back during the entire conversation, rubbing in soothing circles. 

Kristen lets herself slump against him as they hear his footsteps retreat. Johnny’s arms come up to encircle her waist. 

“That was close,” she says, voice unsteady. 

Johnny presses a kiss behind her hair. “I don’t believe they would care, either way.” 

Kristen bites her lip and says nothing. It’s just another reminder of her lie. 

“I must go,” Johnny whispers, voice regretful. 

Kristen nods and sits up, watching him dress. Afterwards he leans over and kisses her once, twice, three times, turning away from the door, making her laugh harder each time he comes back to steal another. 

“You’ve got me addicted,” Johnny chides, shaking his head. 

Kristen smiles after him as he leaves, even though part of her is aching, seeing how happy he is. 

This cannot go on much longer.  
____________________________ 

The next evening they attack the ship, shooting their cannons and getting close enough to mount. The other ship is clearly unprepared, a much smaller vessel and possibly not an outright pirate ship at that. They seem to be in the clear, catching them mostly unawares, and wounding the majority of the crew. Kristen keeps look out on the quarterdeck while the others went to plunder the goods held within the cargo. She does not expect the gunshot from the man lying she thought dead on the main deck beneath her. Her eyes widen, pain seering through her as it hits her ribcage. Tears prickle in her eyes as she crumbles. 

The last thing she hears is Johnny yelling her name. 

_______________________________

“Kris. Kris, open your eyes! Kris, dammit, _please_.” Kristen hears the words -- the pleas really -- as if she were underwater. Her eyelashes flutter open and she can barely make out the face she sees. 

“Johnny?” 

“Yes, I’m here,” he says, voice high and worried. “We lifted you back to our ship, we had to get out of there.”

It’s then she feels hands working at her and can make out Hossa attempting to remove her shirt. 

“No,” she says frantically. 

“Do not worry, I am a surgeon,” Hossa replies. Kristen is well aware of that; it’s not the point. 

She feels the fabric being lifted and then cut into with a blade. 

“It’s alright,” Johnny soothes, stroking his fingers through her hair. “We need to remove the bullet.” 

“Please, no,” Kristen repeats, eyes wide. She grabs at Johnny’s hand. “No.” 

“I’ll be right here.” 

Her shirt is now half open and she can feel the tape against her chest like a shield. “Johnny…” she trails off, eyes pleading. “Johnny, I’m so sorry.” 

She closes her eyes in defeat, against his confused gaze. 

“What is this?” Hossa asks and Kristen waits for it. 

“Kris… what…” It’s Johnny who speaks after a few seconds of silence, halted and confused. Hossa has begun working on the wound, regardless. Kristen wonders how long that will last. 

She opens her eyes slowly. Johnny is looking from her chest and back up, lip pulled between his teeth, frowning hard. 

“Why are you….” he shakes his head as if to clear it. 

She could perhaps craft a clever story. That she has wounds she never told him about, scars. Something. Anything. But there’s no point in continuing the swell of lies. 

She meets his gaze head-on, wincing and sweating as Hossa works to remove the bullet, her face flush and her body tense. “You asked me what Kris was short for,” she begins, watching his eyebrows knit together, his expression darken. “It’s Kristen.” 

Hossa’s hands still as Johnny’s lips part. 

“You’re… a _woman_?” Johnny’s voice is incredulous as he looks her up and down. She watches color rise to his cheeks. 

“Please forgive me.” Kristen coughs, the pain surging again. “I wanted to say something.” 

“So why didn’t you?!” he shouts and she watches his hands shake from where they’re now dropped at his sides. 

“Captain, should I--” Hossa begins, gesturing to the wound and Johnny blinks at him. 

“Yes, of -- Yes.” 

Hossa continues cleaning her wound and she hisses when he finds the bullet, although the pain is dulled by the nerves in her stomach as she takes in Johnny’s stoney gaze. 

“Why didn’t you?” Johnny repeats, but this time he sounds broken. 

“LaPointe, I did not know-- I thought perhaps I could trust him but I wasn’t sure and afterward it seemed -- I was sunk too deep. I couldn’t fathom your response.” 

Johnny’s eyes grow cold, exactly what she’d feared. “And did you enjoy it? Making a fool of me?” 

“No!” Kristen shouts, wanting to reach for his hands. “Johnny, I--”

“Do not call me that,” he says, taking a few steps back. “You’ve--” he runs his fingers through his hair. “You’ve lost that right.” 

Kristen feels her body run cold even though she’s still sweating. 

She watches Johnny turn to Hossa. “Will he--” he cuts himself off, wincing. “Will _she_ make it, Mr. Hossa?” 

“I believe so, Captain. The bullet did not go so deep.” 

“Alright,” Johnny breathes and Kristen takes a small comfort that there’s relief in his expression, mixed amongst the anger. “Do not alert the rest of the crew of this deception. I must decide my own course of action.” 

And then he leaves without another glance in her direction. 

Kristen’s unsure what pains her more: the wound in her chest or the one in her heart.  
_______________________________

Kristen is laid up for days but it feels like weeks. She sees no one but Hossa. She isn’t sure where the ship is headed but it seems they’ll just be sailing for some time. Her wound is healing well but she wishes she knew what her fate was, wishes Johnny would speak to her. 

He finally comes to see her on what must be at least the fifth day; she’s lost track. 

He stands awkwardly against her cabin door, arms crossed over his chest. He looks like he hasn’t slept in ages and he smells heavily of rum. 

“Captain,” she says, lifting her chin. 

Johnny winces. “M’lady,” he replies, but it sounds like an insult, cold in a way she isn’t used to him being. 

Kristen sighs heavily, picking at the bed clothes. “I trust you have informed the crew?”

Johnny nods slowly. 

“And what say they?”

Johnny paces in the small space in front of the door, looking at his feet. 

“They say you’ve broken one of the Articles, which I’m well aware.” 

Kristen closes her eyes, breathing through her nose. She knows it as well, has never forgotten. 

“Are you to maroon me, then?” 

Johnny stills his movements, staring off to the wall, profile towards Kristen. 

“I--” he shakes his head, turning to her. His eyes look red and she wonders exactly just how much he’s indulged lately. Or how little rest he’s received. “There is an exception, of course. The few female pirates known of are always under the protection of the captain.” 

Kristen’s lips part as she stares. “I-- you would do such a thing?”

“You would not last a marooning, not in your weakened state,” he replies flatly, practical. Kristen feels the words like a blow. “It is the decent thing to do. You’re valuable. Your punishment, however, will be a drop in rank. Sharp will take over your duties. You will be a boatswain, reporting to him.” He hesitates before adding, “When you’re well, that is.” 

Aside from the last part, tentative and almost caring, the rest of Johnny’s speech is delivered with a matter-of-factness she hasn’t heard from him since the first days they knew one another. 

“Yes, Captain.” 

She watches his mouth open and close. “Well. I must get back.” 

She watches him turn to leave, feels her stomach jerk. “Captain!” she calls and he stops, hand on the door but doesn’t turn. “I never intended to hurt you.” Her voice is barely audible but Kristen can tell from the stiffening in his back that he hears.

“It’s of no import now.” 

The words leave her cold as ice.  
_________________________________

It takes Kristen another week to build up her strength to get back to work, especially in a more physical role. Saad comes to bring her food, eying her curiously each time.

“Just speak if you wish to speak!” Kristen finally blurts, watching him wince. 

“You fooled everyone easily,” he says, words halted. 

Kristen shrugs. “It’s not as though any of you had reason to suspect.” 

Saad considers that. “I roomed with you, nevertheless. I should have known.” 

Kristen’s lips twitch. “You should not beat yourself up about it,” she says, patting his hand. 

He looks down at her hand and clears his throat. “Some of the crew was angered at first -- the deception and all. But -- they have quieted.” 

Kristen nods, biting her lip. “The Captain…” she trails off, risking a glance at Saad. 

He shakes his head. “He is… displeased.” 

Kristen rips off a piece of bread, chewing, eyes downcast. She hadn’t expected much to change in seven days time but she’d still… hoped. 

“You two were… close, then,” says Saad, the words less a question and more a prompt. 

Kristen likes Saad a lot but she doesn’t wish to divulge this, doesn’t see the use now. “He was my closest friend,” Kristen replies. It’s the truth yet so much less all at once. 

Saad pats her knee sympathetically. “Give him time.” 

Kristen appreciates the sentiment but severely doubts it. 

“Now rest up,” he says. “We report to Sharp early.” 

Kristen sighs a little to herself. She should be grateful she still has a spot on this ship but right now it’s just a reminder of everything she’s lost.  
_____________________

Kristen barely sees Johnny the next week. They’re still sailing, with plenty of food and goods from their last docking. He stays on the quarterdeck while Kristen’s usually on the main deck, cleaning. Otherwise she’s up early helping set the sails, stocking the wood or checking the ropes. It’s awkward, being around the other men at first. They all look at her as though she’d grown a second head at the start, but before long it begins to seem normal again. They don’t try to tell her she can’t do something or attempt to help her and that’s exactly how she wants it. 

One evening she’s sitting on the deck, alone, looking out at the stars. She thinks about the last time she was out here like this, Johnny pressed against her side as he pointed up to the sky, his breath warm against her as he told her which was which. Looking now she can recognize Ursa Major. Mostly everyone has gone to bed and Kristen should be there, too. Except she’s been in a makeshift berth, down near the bottom of the ship since she’s gotten better, as part of her ‘punishment’ and it’s uncomfortable, to say the least. She’d rather sleep under the stars. 

Of course that’s when Johnny finds her. Nearly stumbles _over_ her, to be exact. She looks up at his shadow, takes in the darkness of his eyes, how his face looks loose but unhappy, a bottle of rum dangling from his fingers. 

“Why’re you here?” he slurs and Kristen sits up against the deck, wincing. 

“Was hoping for a peaceful sleep, Captain. The ship is loud near the bottom.” 

Johnny shakes his head, seemingly frustrated. “Why are you _here_ , why did you--” he runs a hand through his hair, no hat on at this late hour. “Why did you come here?”

Kristen holds her breath. His eyes are dark and intense and -- near desperate. But… “You’re drunk,” she replies. There’s no use telling him anything when he’d hardly remember in the morning. 

“Do not distract me,” he says, looking barely older than a child, his hand coming to rest on his hip. Kristen would laugh except the situation isn’t entirely funny, she has to remind herself. 

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Captain,” she says, placating, and stands to catch him just as he starts swaying. “Come on, bed time.” 

Johnny sighs and lets her lead the way. There’s no one there when she arrives and she wonders if someone hasn’t filled Sharp’s place there yet. 

Johnny’s been murmuring nonsensically since they began walking but it’s picked up now, as she lays him down on the bed. “Your hands-- always so-- why did you--why could you not--” His eyes are heavy-lidded and he’s practically asleep. 

Kristen bites her lip and removes his boots. 

“Just sleep, Johnny,” she says quietly, allowing herself the nickname when he cannot truly protest. 

“Stay,” Johnny calls as she’s at the door. 

She turns around, eyes wide. He’s watching her in the near darkness, eyes open only a crack. “Sleep if you cannot elsewhere.” And then he’s turning onto his side and letting out a soft snore. 

Kristen cannot move for a least a minutes time. She manages to gather her wits to walk over to the other cot and slip beneath the bed clothes. 

She has no idea what just occurred.  
_______________________

The next morning she awakens to Johnny standing over her bed, rubbing at his eyes. Kristen startles and sits up. The muscle in his jaw twitches and he looks embarrassed. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to--” he shakes his head. “Thank you. For escorting me back. I must have drank too much.” 

Kristen nods slowly. “Cannot have you falling overboard.” Her mouth tries for a smile but she knows she’s failing. Johnny looks as pained as she feels. 

“You never drink so much,” Kristen says, voice reproachful. 

Johnny’s eyes narrow a little and she immediately regrets her words. They are not so casual with one another now. 

Johnny rubs at his face again. “Yes, well. It is a good remedy for forgetting.” 

Kristen looks away, biting her lip. She opens her mouth to apologize again, but Johnny cuts her off. 

“You should stay here.” 

“What?” Kristen asks, eyes widening in surprise. 

Johnny makes a face, face twisted in unease. “I was not so drunk that I forgot your words. You’re uncomfortable in your new quarters and you are under my protection still. This is logical, so you will stay with me.” 

Kristen’s mouth is agape as she stares at him. “But -- what of the punishment?” 

Johnny’s lips curl into a smile but there’s no amusement behind it. “I dare say this will be punishment enough… for us both,” He trails off on the last few words, soft and sad as he turns for the door. 

Kristen can do nothing but stare after him.  
______________________

Johnny’s words stick with her throughout the following week. Laid up in bed she’d had a lot of time to think. And Johnny’s lack of presence, despite his agreement to keep her aboard, had caused her to realize hers were the only deep feelings in this situation. That he was simply angered because he’d believed she’d made a fool of him. Now, with those three words he uttered days earlier -- she cannot be so sure. If being in Kristen’s presence feels like a punishment to him then he must have felt something deeper than a physical attraction. Unless that is all it was and it is his own lust he deems as punishment. Kristen’s gone over it again and again in her head until it hurts to keep thinking. 

The evenings in their quarters have been awkward but not wholly uncomfortable. Johnny’s hung a sheet between their cots, even though it was not entirely necessary; Kristen had gotten used to getting changed when no one else could see while hiding. She supposes it a noble gesture, or perhaps a backhanded insult. She cannot tell anymore. 

“I have us headed to port,” Johnny says through the curtain. Kristen hasn’t any idea why he sounds so nervous. 

“As you wish,” she replies, unsure. 

He’s silent for a few moments. “And afterward I’ve instructed Kane to take us back up the coast. If you-- we shall be passing where you came to our employ. If you wish to exit, you may.” 

Kristen sits, stunned, staring at the space between them, only making out his shadow through the thin fabric. 

“Is that an order… _Captain_?” She spits the last word, as if she has ceased control of her tongue. 

She hears a soft sigh. “It is merely a suggestion. I have… decided to part once we reach the coast, as well. For a period of time.” 

Kristen sits up in shock and swings aside the curtain. Johnny sits up, shirtless, and Kristen averts her eyes. “What-- why would you--”

“I’d like to see my family,” he says, sitting, tugging at his sheet. “Mr. Sharp can manage things until I return. Nevertheless, you would not be under my personal protection. I anticipate no issues with the crew if you wish to remain on board, however.” 

“I--” Kristen begins, mind whirling, never really anticipating him ever leaving The Blackhawk. “I shall let you know.” 

Johnny nods, once, and his eyes look distant, sad. 

Kristen pulls the sheet back again and settles in for sleep, but is a long time coming.  
__________________________

Kristen’s surprised when their stop at the closest port is for pleasure rather than business. And so she is stuck in another tavern, once again watching a barmaid drape herself over Johnny while he does nothing to discourage her attention. 

The only difference is this time Kristen is clearly a woman. Of course she’s still dressed in her same clothes, would have done so even if they’d known from the start. The only difference is her breasts are no longer taped down and she does not feel the need to button up to her neck. Most of the crew is distracted and so none seem to notice when a man sits beside her at the bar. 

“Buy you a drink?” 

Kristen looks him up and down. He’s greasy and definitely not attractive. She shakes her head at her own luck. “I have one, thank you,” she replies, lifting her mug. 

“Another then?” he says easily. 

“No, thank you,” she says, turning her attention straight ahead. 

“Anything _else_ I can interest you in, then?” he replies, stepping in behind her to run a finger down her side. Kristen tenses, straightening, and turns in her chair. 

She’s just about to punch him in the stomach when she sees someone fly into view. 

“Hey!” Johnny’s saying, flinging the guy around and punching him in the face, before stumbling back holding his own hand. The sight is comical but Kristen’s too enraged to laugh. 

“I can manage myself!” Kristen yells at Johnny as he looks at her in surprise. 

“You are under my protection!” Johnny reminds and Kristen rolls her eyes, kicking the man who is still down on the ground before turning back to Johnny. 

“That does not mean I am defenseless! I throw a better punch than you with my eyes closed!”

She turns to the man again as he stumbles upward and pushes him back. “Leave!” she yells in his face, watching with satisfaction as he scrambles out the door and into the evening night. 

When she faces Johnny again he’s watching her with an expression she cannot read. She flushes when he licks his own lips. 

“I do not want or require your help, Captain,” Kristen forces out. “Perhaps I desired his advances.” 

Johnny lets out a small, hurt sound. “You did _not_ ,” he hisses, as sure as anything. He might be correct but it is the principle. 

“Worry about yourself,” she replies, ignoring his words and crossing her arms over her chest. 

Johnny glares for a moment. “Fine. I will.”

She watches him return to his table, pulling the barmaid onto his lap and burying his face in her neck. Kristen feels like she’s been stabbed all over again. 

She crosses to the other end of the bar to talk with Saad and Leddy, refusing to look back over at Johnny. As it’s nearing the time to be departing she sees Johnny about to make his way up the stairs with the woman. She knows what that means. 

“Captain!” she calls as she walks to meet them at the bottom. 

He’s drunk, laughing, and she watches his hands roam her body as they stumble upward.

“Yes, Stewart?”

She looks at him stonefaced. “We are departing shortly.” 

Johnny laughs, looking at the woman on the step above him. “A short time is all I’ll need.” 

Kristen holds back a roll of her eyes. “Nevertheless, Captain, I _am_ in your charge. As is the crew.” 

“I thought you didn’t _need_ me,” he slurs, face twisted in a smirk. 

Kristen shakes her head sadly, all the fight leaving her. “If I do say so, Sir, you really are a most unattractive drunkard.” 

She turns back to the bar, not wishing to watch him depart. 

A few moments later a hand rests by hers on the wood before her. 

“Let us go, then.” It’s Johnny, his words barely audible. 

“I thought you were engaged elsewhere,” Kristen says, staring straight ahead. 

“You were mistaken,” he replies, voice gruff. 

Her chest feels lighter as she follows him out of the tavern but it doesn’t last long. 

“You aren’t to do that again,” Johnny says when they’re back in their quarters. “You’re no longer my quartermaster.” 

Kristen tosses her hat aside and sits on her cot, working off her boots. “You were only thinking of yourself and you are letting the drink get the best of you.” 

Johnny’s eyes flare as he jerks off his own footwear. “It is none of your concern!” 

Kristen stands, stalking towards him. “Yes, it is!” she shouts up at him, inches away from his face, head turned stubbornly upward. “It is my concern, when _I_ am the cause!” 

Johnny’s eyes widen and he looks-- shaken to his core, undone. “You--” Johnny begins and Kristen watches his hands shake.“You give yourself far too much credit.” 

“Tell me I’m mistaken,” Kristen demands, not caring if her tone is defiant or if she’s speaking out of turn. 

Johnny’s gaze turns stormy and he takes a step closer, staring down at her. “What is it you wish to hear? That I trusted you? That I confided in you? That I -- shared my body with someone I believed a man, all while you did whatever you could to not be discovered -- so you may live your new life?”

“That was not --”

“It may not have been your intention but it is what happened! And I’ve never felt so foolish.”

All of the anger seems to drain out of him, then. Kristen observes as Johnny bows his head in the space between them. She inhales sharply and dares to reach her hand out to his, feeling the back of it jerk against her fingers. 

“I deceived you, yes, but not as greatly as you believe me to have.” She waits for Johnny to look down at her, rather than his feet, before continuing. “My only deception was in what lay beneath my clothes. And I apologize -- if that made things confusing for you. But the rest -- the way I feel -- it was all me, Johnny. You’ve known who I really was, even when you believed you did not.” 

He closes his eyes and Kristen drags the tips of her fingers along his wrist. 

“Kristen,” he breathes, and her name -- her actual name -- on his lips makes her heart lurch in her chest. 

He bends down, slowly, resting their foreheads together. Kristen feels the air grow thick around her, her fingers itching to reach out and wrap around him. 

“You’ve no idea how I’ve wanted to touch you, and you would never allow it,” Johnny whispers, breath fanning across her face. 

Kristen shivers against him, wrapping her hand around his wrist and closing her own eyes. “Do you still?” Her words stutter as his lips skim across the side of her face. “Now--now you know?” 

“Yes,” he whispers, lips warm against her cheek. “Man or woman -- it was of no consequence to me. My feelings have not changed.” 

She feels a hand on her chin, tilting her face upward and then she’s meeting his eyes, sees the honesty shining there. “I presumed you did not feel as I.” 

Kristen allows her hands to slide around his waist, gripping the soft cloth of his shirt before smiling ever so slight. “You presumed wrong, Captain.” 

His eyes are shining as he bends to draw their mouths together. The kiss begins slow, exploratory, relearning the shape and feel of one another's mouths. They've done this so often Kristen's not sure she could've ever forgotten, no matter what amount of time passed. Johnny emits a soft sound against her, tongue dragging along her lips, seeking entrance. Kristen gives it easily, their tongues pressed against one another, the weight of it heavy in her mouth as she suckles. Johnny moans deep in his chest and his hands slide down her body, over her sides, fingers slipping behind her back and clenching in her jacket, pulling their bodies flush. Just like that the rhythm changes to something frantic and heady.

Kristen feels Johnny’s erection against her torso and this time doesn't need to shy away in the slightest, welcomes the warmth of him, the hard press that's proof of his desire, desire for _her_. Kristen's hands slip to Johnny's ass and it makes him pant roughly, breaking the seal of their mouths from where they'd been licking so deep and desperate, the wet smack of lips loud against the waves outside the window.

" I long to touch you, " Johnny breathes, his fingers gliding up her stomach between them, ever so slowly. "You never allowed it and it drove me mad."

Kristen squeezes her eyes shut as he presses nipping kisses over her chin and jaw. "And you still?"

He’s already confirmed as much but she -- she needs to hear it once more. 

Johnny buries his face in her neck, dragging his tongue along her exposed skin, the back of his hand traveling upward, stopping just at the curve of her breast. Kristen shivers.

"More than you know. I-- I have been tied to you since the first day we met.”

"Johnny,” Kristen whispers, happiness flooding her chest, her body aching in all the places he isn't touching her yet. When he finally cups her breast she lets out a keening moan, head tipping back from where his mouth was still latched.

"I want to lay you down. Make you feel the way you've made me."

“Yes,” Kristen gasps, taking a step backward. Johnny straightens, his hands moving to the buttons of her shirt, parting it slowly. Her face heats as Johnny simply stares.

“God,” he whispers, and then raises his hands, fingers nimble, shaking. 

Kristen sucks in a breath as his. “You act as though you've never done this.”

“It has been a long time,” Johnny admits.

Kristen nods, biting her lip, suddenly worried of her lack of experience even though she never was previously. Perhaps it was easier when she was still able to pretend. 

His fingers press against her nipple and she jerks forward, mouth dropping open. He watches her, expression one of fascination. As if reading her thoughts he says, “Was it true? You’ve never done this?”  
Kristen nods. “Kissing and -- some of this.” She gestures to his hands. “But that is all. Before you, that is.” 

Johnny presses their lips together again, breathing shallowly against her, his touches growing firmer. Kristen pulls at his shirt until it’s over his head, tossing it aside. Johnny laughs and drags his thumbs across her nipples, making her gasp with want. He ducks his head then, bending to mouth at her breasts. It had been the farthest she’d gotten with Robert before he left, but for some reason Johnny’s mouth is so much better, warm and insistent, his tongue darting out again and again. Kristen’s fingers scramble for purchase against his bare skin, her fingers dipping beneath his breeches, thumbing his stockings and beneath.  
Johnny moans, the vibration against her skin making her gasp. He slides her shirt down her arms and off and Kristen takes the opportunity of him straightening, his mouth back on her neck, wet and feverish, to strip him further. 

“Want to put my mouth everywhere,” Johnny whispers, licking a line up her neck as she undoes his flies and pushes his breeches down. 

“Good, as do I,” Kristen replies, trying for dry but failing at how breathless her voice already is, her body thrumming with pleasure. Johnny’s hands make quick work of the rest of her clothes until they are standing in their stockings, just staring at one another before their mouths crash together again and they fall backward onto his cot. 

It shakes and moans beneath them and they giggle against one another lips. “You’ll take us to the floor, Captain,” Kristen chides.

He licks at the center of her mouth, breath hot like fire. “You wouldn’t mind,” Johnny says, knowingly. He isn’t wrong. 

Kristen pulls him closer in lieu of answering, her fingers firm against his ass, urging him to rock against her. He does and Kristen delights in the shivers of want his erection causes, pressed against through the thin layer of fabric. It’s a teasing rhythm, too little yet far too much all at once. They begin kissing again, mouths open and wet, tongues tangling, dirtier than they ever had before, this time with clear purpose. Kristen slides her hands beneath his stockings, gripping him firmly while Johnny chokes out a moan, his body flush against her breasts, every movement causing her nipples to grow even harder, goosebumps rising on her skin. 

They move at the same time, rolling onto their sides, mouths still fused as they push off the rest of their clothing. Johnny kisses her everywhere during it, peppering her face, her neck, her breasts, before shifting between his legs and putting his mouth on her. Kristen gasps, too loud for the quiet night air but unable to contain herself. Johnny spreads his fingers, holding her open as his mouth goes to work, tongue broad and thick, making her quake with pleasure. Kristen isn’t sure how long Johnny spends making her shiver and moan, her body shaking, perspiration dripping down her face, her neck, gathering at the small of her back. She feels it build, higher and higher, just as it does when she touches herself alone but better, stronger, until her release comes in a rush of white heat behind her eyes, breathless pants of Johnny’s name falling from her lips. 

His face is red and he’s breathing hard as he kisses his way back up to her. She tastes herself on his tongue and pulls him closer as a result, the intimacy almost overwhelming. 

“Johnny,” Kristen begins, not sure what she means to say, can barely put together any thoughts. 

“I want to be inside you,” he whispers and Kristen nods, their foreheads pressed together, the air humid around them. 

Johnny positions himself over her, guiding himself inside slowly, her legs on either side of his thighs. “Tell me if I go too fast,” he whispers, lip trembling. She wants him desperately.

She lets out a small cry as he presses forward, muscles immediately tensing. Johnny leans forward, stroking her hair off her forehead. “Does it hurt?” 

Kristen shakes her head. “Just pressure. I can it handle it, Captain.” She says the last part smugly, grinning a little unsteadily. 

Johnny grins back. “I know you can.” And he sounds completely sincere. 

He presses in deeper, leaning close enough so they can kiss as he goes slow, ever so slow, letting Kristen feel every inch of him as he slides into her. 

“You’re so wet,” Johnny gasps against her lips, “So tight around me.” 

Kristen flushes, pulling him closer until he’s flush against her pelvis and bites at his mouth. “And you’re filthy,” she replies, not at all reprovingly. 

Johnny laughs, shaky and almost broken, as he begins to move. “I don’t believe I’ve ever laughed in bed before.” 

Kristen feels her heart swell. “A first for everything.” 

“Speaking of,” he says, voice amused, and then there is less talking and more kissing as he Johnny thrusts his hips, fucking into her slow and steady. Kristen gasps with every pull backward and push forward, her legs wrapping around his waist. Johnny frames her face in his hands the entire time, kissing her long and deep, matching the movement of his tongue to that of his hips, slowing their mouths when they falter, speeding them up again when he regains the pace. Kristen feels full, body buzzing with every movement, crying out when he presses in close, circling his hips just right to send sparks of pleasure through her, gripping hard at Johnny’s shoulder as she shakes and climaxes again. 

“Fuck,” she breathes, shakily. Johnny looks undone as he stares down at her, eyes wide and teeth pulled between his lips. 

“I,” he gasps, fucking in deeper as Kristen’s body continues to spasm around him, causing them both to moan. “Oh, fuck, I,” Johnny stutters, hips jerking haltingly as he slams forward, again and again before freezing, their mouths inches apart, gasping for breath as Johnny shakes in her arms. “Oh my god,” he finishes weakly, nuzzling his nose against her neck, kissing her overheated skin. 

She can feel him pulsing inside her, squeezes around him until he lets out a soft moan. 

“I need to move,” Johnny whispers, almost apologetically. 

“Alright,” Kristen says, blinking sweat out of her eyes, her hands still gripping along his shoulders, sliding over his back, not wanting to cease touching him. Johnny withdraws gingerly but curls around her immediately, pulling the bed clothes around them. It’s a tight fit in the smallness of the cot, but they’ve made do before and Kristen has no qualms fitting herself along his side and kissing the dip of his clavicle. 

“Are you satisfied?” Johnny whispers in the shadows, the water a steady rocking around them. 

Kristen tilts her head upward, resting it on his shoulder and smirking at him. “Was it not obvious?” 

Johnny rolls his eyes and kisses her temple. “I’d rather not presume.” 

“On the contrary, I think you’re seeking flattery.” Kristen teases, loving how it makes him scowl. 

He huffs and tries to shift in her arms and Kristen would draw it out, see if she could get him to pout, but she’s feeling too loose and relaxed and she’d rather him be pliant against her. 

She reaches out to tilt his head back towards her. “Yes, Johnny. It was --” Now that she’s being serious she finds she’s at a loss for words. It was better than she imagined, actually, and she’s more than a little aware that it has to do with it having been him, specifically. 

His eyes have softened now, watching her curiously. “What?” he prods, voice quiet. 

“Perfect,” she replies, linking their fingers together. “It was perfect.”  
____________________

“Will you still go ashore?” Kristen finally asks, a few days later when they’ve spent every evening and morning in bed together, making one another moan and shiver. She’s certain some of the crew are aware, particularly Mr. Sharp who keeps giving her knowing grins and nudging Johnny until he scowls and pushes him back, trying to mask his own smile. 

“Aye,” Johnny replies around a yawn, pulling her closer, his body warm against her back. “Time to see my family. We’ll gather some more goods before reaching our destination along the coast.” 

Kristen nods silently, mind turning. She could visit her family to at least provide them with her share of the bounty thus far. It had been her intention, after all. And then she could return aboard. Though it would be odd without Johnny, if she’s honest with herself. 

She’s just about to ask how long he plans to be away when she feels his lips on the back of her neck. “Come with me?” 

Kristen’s lips part in surprise. “Uh. I-- Are you sure?” 

She feels his nod, his hand tightening around her belly. “I’d love to introduce you to them.” 

Kristen laughs nervously. “As your what? Crossdressing crewman?” 

Johnny shifts behind her, pushing up onto his elbow, his mouth skimming down her shoulder blade, over her collarbone. Kristen shivers into it. “As my newly instated quartermaster,” he says slowly and she thinks she can hear his voice shake as he continues, “And my -- my soon-to-be wife, if you’ll have me.” 

His breath is warm against Kristen’s skin as his words wash over her. 

Kristen turns abruptly, meeting his gaze, the fear and hopefulness there. 

“Jesus Christ, Johnny,” she breathes, stomach flipping. 

His eyes slip away from her face as his tongue runs over his lower lip. “I apologize if I’ve come on too strong. I guess in some ways I’m rather traditional.” 

Kristen laughs, feeling a little hysterical. She taps him on the chest, making him look at her once more. “I didn’t say no,” she whispers, mouth curving into a smile as she watches a slow, gorgeous one take over his own face. 

He bends to kiss her, slow and unhurried. 

“I’m keeping my surname, however,” Kristen pants out when he has her on her back, fucking into her slow and steady and perfect. 

Johnny’s laughter is thready and joyous. “As you wish, Stewart.” 

[end]

**Author's Note:**

> Update 12/21/14: you can read a future timestamp set in this 'verse [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2423903/chapters/6328298).


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